


red velvet under pressure

by featherx



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, FE3H Kinkmeme, Handcuffs, Library Sex, Light Bondage, Light Spanking, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Semi-Public Sex, Table Sex, top yuri/bottom linhardt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:53:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26510953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/featherx/pseuds/featherx
Summary: Linhardt talks too much, and Yuri has finally devised a solution to shut him up (for now).
Relationships: Linhardt von Hevring/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc
Comments: 5
Kudos: 83





	red velvet under pressure

**Author's Note:**

> title from [talk too much - COIN](https://open.spotify.com/track/4djIFfof5TpbSGRZUpsTXq?si=2tQY0pLMRmuFSAMMQY6VrQ) (of course)  
> for [this prompt](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1608.html?thread=2066760) in the fe3h kinkmeme:
> 
> I just love the thought of Yuri getting fed up and shutting down Lin's know it all behaviour by pounding the absolute daylights out of him
> 
> \+ If there's dom/sub,,, it happens gradually because of how bratty and uninvolved/uninterested Lin is  
> ++ **TW:** Dub conish??? Like Linhardt is fine w/ the situation, but it happens without too much warning and at first he's thinking Yuri is just joking  
> +++ Multiple orgasms pls I beg of u

“Oh, gods,” Yuri sighs, “here you are _again._ ”

Linhardt doesn’t need to take his eyes off the book to know it’s Yuri—after getting kicked out of here one too many times by the other man, Linhardt doesn’t think he could forget that voice if he wanted to. “That’s my line.”

“You do know I’d rather not have anyone from the surface down here.” Footsteps, growing closer and closer until a shadow obscures the words on the book. “It creates problems _I_ have to resolve and which _you_ do nothing to help with.”

Linhardt is starting to get a headache already. “Now really, where exactly is the harm in me being down here? Am I causing any trouble by cracking open some books and reading a few pages?” He turns a page for emphasis, keeping his eyes on the words—this subject really _is_ rather interesting. The author of this study had certainly gone above and beyond with their research. When had he picked up this book? How long has he been in here? He has no idea to either of those questions.

Yuri leans back against the edge of the table. Linhardt can just about hear him grinding his teeth. “Why are you even here so often? Don’t you have a perfectly good library up there?”

“A perfectly good library I’ve read from corner to corner. Come now, Yuri,” Linhardt sighs, injecting as much mocking derision in his voice, “this place is almost always empty whenever I visit. Am I just that much of an eyesore to you? Do you want me gone that bad?”

It’s a jab, of course. Linhardt’s seen how Yuri glances at him whenever he dresses lighter, and Linhardt would be lying if he didn’t say he’s crossed his legs at the knee more than once just so the robe he wore revealed what was underneath (which, obviously, was nothing). And Yuri would look, always, without fail, those lovely lavender eyes sharp and piercing and so very satisfying, but the other man had never done much else. Linhardt wasn’t actually interested, per se—it just feels nice to have someone’s gaze on him, raking his body up and down, and their sad little faces whenever Linhardt inevitably turns them down are just oh-so-amusing. It’s only a matter of time until Yuri takes the bait, and if he insists on seeing him every time Linhardt ambles his way down to the Shadow Library in Abyss, then it will certainly help speed things up.

He can see those eyes now, trailing the line of his throat as if Yuri could pick apart his high-necked collar through his stare alone. Could he? Would he? Linhardt’s not sure what he might do if Yuri does follow through with what he obviously wants to do. Linhardt could reject him, and Yuri would listen—he isn’t a scoundrel. But _would_ Linhardt stop him?

“Shut up,” is all Yuri says, which, alright, Linhardt supposes he should have expected that. “This chair wasn’t here a while ago. Put it back or I’ll smash it over your head.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” Linhardt turns another page. “Putting it back would require me getting up, after all. And what sort of library will have a lovely desk like this but not pair it with a chair? Even if you did make me return it, I’ve already forgotten where I originally took it from…”

“Ooh, you mouthy little shit,” Yuri hisses, pushing himself off the desk and folding his arms over his chest. “What I’d do to shut you up.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Abyss wouldn’t be Abyss if it didn’t have its abundance of ball gags,” Yuri says, so plainly that it takes a moment for the words to register in Linhardt’s head. “Of course, there aren’t any nearby right now,” Yuri continues, his lips curling up in an amused smirk at whatever expression Linhardt is wearing, “but even your big mouth can’t talk around a dick, can it?”

“Leave it to you underground dwellers to have developed such… humor,” Linhardt carefully responds. That _was_ a joke, wasn’t it? It had sounded like one, but then Yuri’s teasing, lilting voice makes just about everything sound like a joke right until his enemies, throats cut and pockets emptied, realize it isn’t. Well, crass as it is, Linhardt refuses to think about it any longer—he’s just about to get to an interesting part. He turns another page—

Yuri moves too fast for Linhardt to react—one second he’s standing still, arms crossed, and the next second his fingers are wrapped around Linhardt’s wrist, yanking his hand away from the book. “You could stand to pay some attention when I’m talking to you,” Yuri tells him. “Otherwise you might regret it.”

His voice is low and dangerous as a snake hiding in the tall grass, waiting for its chance to strike, and his grip around Linhardt’s wrist is unyielding—Linhardt doesn’t need to try and pull away from him to know there’s no hope unless Yuri releases him himself. “Let—Let go,” Linhardt snaps, ignoring both the stammer in his voice and the heat beginning to gather in his stomach at that still-present smirk on Yuri’s face. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me nor the library, and now here you are enclosing on my personal space? Is there something else you want of me?”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “Why do you always have to _talk_ so much?”

Linhardt turns his nose up at him. “Go ahead. Shut me up.”

And, well, Linhardt never regrets saying anything no matter how rude it may come across—he very much likes speaking his mind and he isn’t planning on stopping anytime soon—but he wonders if he _should_ regret it this time, when Yuri’s smirk turns into a grin. “Well then,” he says, voice even lower, even more dangerous, “since you asked so nicely,” and then the hand on Linhardt’s wrist has moved to his hair, gripping tight and _pulling._

Normally Linhardt hisses like a scorned cat when anyone aside from a very select few people touch his hair, but this—he hisses still, but for a much different reason he’d rather not admit.

He’s not sure how or when Yuri had brought him so quickly and effortlessly down to his knees, but Linhardt blinks and suddenly Yuri is all he can see from below, the stolen chair clattered and upended behind him and Yuri’s hand still fisted in his hair, fingers tangled in the long locks. “I have to say, this is a much more satisfying sight than you always looking down on me,” Yuri muses, almost conversationally. Linhardt opens his mouth to speak, but Yuri tightens his grip on his hair and all that leaves Linhardt’s lips next is a pained sound. “Ah-ah, I don’t want another word from you. Put that mouth to some better use.”

The heat from earlier is coiling in Linhardt’s gut. _Wait,_ he wants to say. _Hold on,_ he wants to say. How did the situation come to this? When had he given it a chance to develop? He should say no. He should refuse. He should… He should. He could. Yuri would listen, would let him go—they’re both allies in this war, and Linhardt knows Yuri might be pesky and irritable and meticulous and always kicking Linhardt out of the library, but Yuri is not a bad person. Yuri would listen. Linhardt should say no.

But he’s already on his knees, the library floorboards creaking beneath him, Yuri’s hand in his hair and his crotch directly in front of his face. And there’s that heat, curling and curdling, whispering _yes yes yes._

He’s already here, and though it’s been a while Linhardt is no stranger to acts like these. He might as well, right?

Yuri hums in delight when Linhardt undoes his pants—they’re thankfully not his battle outfit and are instead a more sensible pair of loose trousers that go down easily—and though Linhardt’s fingers hesitate at his underwear, he tugs those down too. Then for a moment, he has absolutely no idea what to do next when he finally comes face to face with Yuri’s cock.

“I like you this way.” Yuri’s grip on his hair lightens until he’s stroking Linhardt instead, carding his hand through the strands. “Speechlessness suits you.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I still have plenty to say to you.” Linhardt spits in his palm then takes Yuri in hand, stroking slowly and languidly as he does with all things. Thankfully Yuri doesn’t yank at his hair for that again, as while the first few times had been on this side of intoxicating, Linhardt would rather not risk the hair loss. “But I suppose I’ll indulge you with a bit of quiet this time… on my part, anyway.”

He’s expecting Yuri to hurry him up, but surprisingly he seems content with this pace. Good—Linhardt wouldn’t have sped up anyway. He strokes Yuri to half-hardness, not even really thinking about it anymore; despite how all sorts of people are practically falling at Yuri’s knees and begging him to let them suck him off, Yuri had caught him in a _good part_ at his book. Maybe Linhardt _should_ speed up a little bit, if only so he can get back to the study of deep-sea creatures quicker as well. He doesn’t even care about getting himself off—he can do that in the privacy of his own room later, rather than in this library where just anyone can walk in and see him doing… this.

Oh, dear. Thinking about that was a mistake. Linhardt shakes the thought away and returns his attention to the matter at hand—or the dick in hand, rather. Yuri is bigger than he expected, but it makes things a little more interesting, so Linhardt doesn’t mind. He tries out the movements that his hand still remembers—teasing the head, fondling the balls, digging his thumb against the slit. Yuri hisses at that, and _oh,_ how Linhardt has forgotten just how satisfying it is to see those first white beads of pre-cum at the tip. He leans forward and kisses them off, making sure it smears nicely across his lips, then starts licking in earnest, hand and tongue working in tandem.

“That’s right,” Yuri breathes. “Keep going.”

His hand is resting atop Linhardt’s head, neither stroking nor pulling his hair, and perhaps it’s the lack of movement that gives Linhardt the false sense of security. “I don’t see why you had to make me do this, among all your admirers,” Linhardt says, speaking almost directly against his dick. “Does my reputation in fellatio precede me, or—”

He doesn’t get any further than that, because the hand moves to press flat against the back of his head and then Yuri is _pushing_ Linhardt down his cock. It’s too much too fast and Linhardt would have choked if he hadn’t already done this before—Yuri had forced him over halfway down his length already, and Linhardt can’t quite hold back the involuntary moan he lets out when Yuri tugs at his hair again. “I told you to shut up,” Yuri tuts, a victorious little grin on his face. “What better way than with a dick, hm?”

 _This little…_ The hand at the back of his head keeps Linhardt from drawing back, but he isn’t planning to anyway. No, he works his way further down instead, licking and sucking until he feels the head hitting the back of his throat. Yuri groans and Linhardt relishes it, the ache and burn of his jaw, the salty tang of pre-cum on his tongue, the twitch and throb of Yuri’s cock in his mouth. He doesn’t flinch when Yuri’s grip on him tightens again and he starts canting his hips forward, fucking into Linhardt’s mouth; he relaxes his jaw on instinct and lets Yuri use him, holding onto his thighs for balance. “Fuck,” Yuri sighs, looking down at him, and Linhardt just barely manages to meet his eyes. “Doesn’t—It doesn’t hurt?”

How cute. He’s _worried._ Linhardt simply hums around his cock and Yuri comes with a stifled cry, shooting down Linhardt’s throat—he swallows dutifully, since he’d rather not get this mess on the floor or on any of the nearby books, and he even takes the time to lick Yuri’s cock clean when he’s finished, leaning against the edge of the desk and panting hard. “Well? Was that quiet enough for you?”

Yuri stares at him, expression unreadable. Linhardt hopes he isn’t imagining the hint of incredulity, because it certainly boosts his ego. “You…”

“Yes, me.” Linhardt wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then stretches his jaw a little. “Well, I’ll take that as my little favor to you. In exchange, will you leave me to read in peace now? I’m afraid this book isn’t going to finish itself.” He’s already scanning the book he had left sitting open on the desk, trying to locate the line he had left off of. Was it on the section about parasitic tapeworms? He fumbles blindly to the side for the upturned chair—

That hand is on his again, halting him in his movements. “Really, Linhardt,” Yuri purrs, right next to his ear. “Do you think me so selfish? You haven’t even gotten yourself off yet, and I’m not some lethargic fool who falls asleep right after one round. The library is still empty, and those candles are still standing, aren’t they?”

“I would really rather read about tapeworms then touch you again,” Linhardt says, but it’s a weak protest at best. Yuri has pressed close to him from behind, their bodies rubbing against each other’s, and Yuri’s other hand has snaked down to hover dangerously close to Linhardt’s own stirring dick. He can’t deny the interest, if not the arousal, that comes with such promising uncertainty—what does Yuri want to do to him? What else does he have in mind? Linhardt’s not sure he’ll even refuse if Yuri pushes him down onto his knees again, if he’ll shake his head and say no or if he’ll take Yuri back into his mouth and let him fuck his face once more, over and over until Linhardt comes untouched in his pants like some desperate slut.

That train of thought really should not have excited him as much as it had, but now there’s definitely a noticeable bulge in his trousers, and he only has himself to blame, considering Yuri hasn’t even actually touched him there yet. “See?” Yuri whispers, breath fanning hot over the shell of his ear. “This _is_ a library. I could just let you check that book out for later.”

Linhardt’s not sure if Yuri’s body or the idea of getting to read while curled comfortably up in bed is what arouses him even more. “Fine,” he eventually says, trying to make it sound like he hadn’t been planning to agree from the start. “Make this worth my time.”

It turns out he probably shouldn’t have said that, because less than a minute later he’s bent over the desk, undergarments bunched around his ankles, back arched and legs spread, struggling to keep himself in check while two of Yuri’s long, slender fingers spread him open in the same slow, languid manner Linhardt had taunted Yuri with earlier. “Oh, fuck you,” Linhardt grumbles, clinging onto the edge of the desk to steady himself. His sweat drips down the side of his face, drops landing on the table.

Yuri jabs his fingers in _hard,_ and Linhardt presses his forehead to the table wood, muffling his gasp as best as he can. “How many times am I gonna have to teach you this lesson? Stay _quiet_ for once in your life.”

“S-So is this how you plan to shut me up? Fucking me into silence?” Linhardt manages. Frankly he’s a little impressed with himself that he can still string words together—it _has_ been a while, and Yuri has the bite to back up his bark—but Linhardt isn’t about to let Yuri _know_ that. “I’m a little—surprised you don’t just use my mouth instead— _oh,_ ” he moans, his self-control slipping when Yuri adds a third finger and he presses against the spot that has Linhardt scrabbling to keep his grip on the desk lest he fall over. “T-There…”

“Oh? Right here?” Yuri asks. Linhardt expects him to purposely avoid it, just to be a bastard, but Yuri aims right for his prostate and presses there _hard_ again, rubbing steadily, practically _massaging_ the spot, and Linhardt is shaking so hard the books closest to the edge of the desk are threatening to fall over. “Right here, Linhardt?” Yuri repeats, a grin in his voice as he draws back then thrusts again, and again, and again, fucking Linhardt on his fingers. “Or are you keeping quiet out of spite now? Let me hear an answer.”

Linhardt has no idea how he’s still standing right now, considering how bad his legs are trembling and how his dick is so hard it hurts, leaking all over the floor, and Goddess, it feels too _good._ He almost wants Yuri to add a fourth finger, but he’ll die before he says that aloud. “Nn… mmh,” is all he can really manage. Linhardt lets go of the desk with one hand to fumble blindly beneath himself, wrapping his fingers around his cock—that first desperate pump has him moaning embarrassingly loudly, but he doesn’t get any further than that because Yuri’s other hand is grabbing his wrist for, what, the third time now?

“For the love of—let go,” Linhardt hisses. He can feel pre-cum dripping down his length and onto the floor, probably forming a puddle; for one delusional second, he dearly hopes Yuri isn’t going to make him lick it off.

“Don’t want to.” Yuri traps Linhardt’s arm against his back, retrieves something from his pocket, then somehow clasps something on Linhardt’s wrist. “If you get yourself off this will be over far too quickly, and I want this lesson to _stick._ Do tell me if they start to chafe, though,” he says, the words going in one of Linhardt’s ears and out the other as Yuri grabs his other arm and clicks that metal clasp around his wrist. Linhardt has a feeling he already knows what this is, but he gives it an experimental tug anyway, and is extremely unsurprised to realize Yuri just carries handcuffs around the same way he just happens to have a bottle of oil on hand.

“This—” Linhardt tugs at the handcuffs again, just to hear them rattle loudly. “What is wrong with you. Why do you just _have_ these on your person? Are there other people you’re disciplining that I don’t know about? Should I be jealous of them?”

“Oh, please.” Yuri starts thrusting again, somehow even harder and faster this time, and _still_ hitting Linhardt’s prostate with every other movement. “No one gives me as much trouble as you.”

It feels so good it _hurts—_ Linhardt groans and rolls his hips back into Yuri’s hand, trying to take in more of his fingers, and only his pride keeps him from asking for a fourth digit. But how long will that pride last? Probably only for as long as Linhardt can stave off the growing tension in his stomach, his cock beginning to twitch and leak even more in promise. He wants to come, he wants to come so bad—Yuri is rubbing against that spot now, then spreading his fingers to scissor him and _oh,_ Goddess, Linhardt feels so _open,_ he needs, he needs, he needs—

Yuri stills. “What was that?”

Linhardt hadn’t even been aware he had said anything, but his lips form the word again without needing to remember. “Please…”

“Please what?” Yuri’s other hand is resting on his ass, his palm warm, and Linhardt shivers just from that.

No, no, if he asks now he’s going to lose… but Linhardt needs it, needs it so bad—no, he has to stay focused, this is just for as long as Yuri is satisfied and then Linhardt can bring some of these books back to his room—but, _Goddess,_ he wants it, needs it—“Aren’t you getting tired yet?” he manages, miraculously, craning his neck to look up at Yuri behind him. “Surely—Surely you aren’t content with just using your h-hand.”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “I see you’re as mouthy as ever. When will you learn that you’re not the one in charge here, Linhardt? If you want something, you’ll have to _tell_ me, directly.” He punctuates his words with another press against Linhardt’s prostate, and Linhardt drops his head back down to the desk with a shuddering groan. “Or can you get off with just my hand, as you say?”

“Will you just _fuck me already,_ ” Linhardt gives in and grinds out, glaring at the wood grains on the table. There is no way he wants to see whatever victorious look is most likely on Yuri’s face right now.

Yuri scoffs and the next thing Linhardt knows, he’s delivered a swift slap to Linhardt’s ass—not at all hard enough to actually hurt, but he jolts in surprise all the same. And then, to his horror, he has to hold back a _moan._ “How did you ever get into the academy five years ago with manners like yours? Clearly _someone_ has to discipline you. Now, won’t you ask me _nicely?_ ”

Will Yuri slap him again if Linhardt continues to disobey? Now _that_ is certainly a theory Linhardt would love to put to the test. Yuri isn’t an idiot, though—he’ll probably catch on quick, and then Linhardt will never hear the end of it. He swallows; those fingers are still inside him, rubbing insistently at his insides and very quickly turning his brain into mush. “Fuck… Fuck me,” Linhardt tries again, gritting his teeth.

Yuri adds a fourth finger instead. Linhardt chokes on his moan, eyes dampening with the promise of tears—one more and he’d have Yuri’s whole hand inside, one more and Linhardt just knows he’d be so _full._ But if he replaces those fingers with something else instead—“Please,” Linhardt finally gasps out, barely registering anything outside of the haze of lust anymore, “please fuck me, _please—_ ”

“That’s more like it,” Yuri coos, drawing his hand out; Linhardt almost falls over, legs buckling under the sheer effort it takes to keep him standing. He hears the sound of the bottle opening again, the wet noise of Yuri slicking up his cock, and then—Linhardt shivers—he feels the heavy press of it against his gaping hole, so much bigger than Yuri’s slim fingers. “You learn so very quickly. I’m almost surprised.”

Linhardt would spit in his face if he could, but turning around is too much effort right now, and Yuri probably wouldn’t let him if he tried anyway. “Is all this _really_ just to shut me up?” he retorts instead. “Surely if you really wanted to keep me quiet, you’d just cut my throat—”

He interrupts himself with a sharp gasp—Yuri’s slapped his ass again, a little harder this time but still relatively painless. “Do you _like_ being punished?” Yuri asks, the question clearly hypothetical when he spanks Linhardt again, and Linhardt jerks forward with a moan he doesn’t stifle in time. “Oh, looks like you do. Hm, now I’m torn. Can you come just from this? Shall we test that out before I stick my dick in you?”

“Y-You—”

Another slap, and Linhardt groans, his vision beginning to swim. He almost wishes he could see how he might look, pale skin gone red from the impact. “You’re so cute,” Yuri whispers, almost too soft to hear. He squeezes Linhardt’s ass, cock rubbing against his hole, drawing a full-body shiver from Linhardt. “So good like this. Won’t you be good for me, Linhardt?”

The words run down his back like waves, the ocean pushing him closer to shore. Linhardt inhales, exhales, feels his mind fog over with the need to be filled up and used again, just not in his mouth this time. “Yes,” he breathes out, blinking back tears. “I’ll… be g-good.”

It’s humiliating. It’s _exhilarating._

Yuri murmurs a word of praise Linhardt doesn’t hear—there’s a hand rubbing his back, almost soothingly, and then he cries out when Yuri finally, _finally_ pushes his cock inside. There’s barely any burn or discomfort anymore, not when Linhardt has been so thoroughly opened up, and for a moment Linhardt almost wishes there were, wishes Yuri were even bigger so he could _feel_ the pressure, could _feel_ his hole opening up even wider to make room for his cock. “Ah, _fuck,_ ” Yuri’s groaning, his hand fisted in Linhardt’s blouse, the last article of clothing he has left. “Shit, you’re still—fucking tight, fuck.”

What is Linhardt supposed to say to that? _Thank you?_ Then again, even if he did know what to say, he doubts he’d be able to speak right now—all he can really do is lie pliant there, Yuri gripping his thighs to keep him up, while Yuri slowly begins to move. “Yuri,” Linhardt gasps, “you—ah—I-I’m—”

Since when did he devolve into broken words so quickly and easily before? He’s sure he’s held out longer than this in the past, and yet he melts like butter under Yuri’s hands, bucking his hips to try and match his pace. Yuri’s cock sinks deep inside him, brushing tantalizingly against his prostate, then pulls out again just to _slam_ back inside with force that has Linhardt whimpering, the tears falling freely down his cheeks now. He must look a mess, and he dreads the idea of anyone, especially anyone he _knows,_ walking in and seeing him in this state, bent over a table and being fucked like a toy, but at the same time—the thought just has him moving faster, taking in more of Yuri’s cock, chasing that addicting pleasure before, before—

The metal of the handcuffs rattles loudly when he tugs at them, but it’s no use—arms around his back as they are, Linhardt can only dream of getting his hands close enough to get himself off. Yuri huffs out a laugh like he knows what Linhardt’s thinking (and he probably does). “Are you close?” he taunts, bending over to nip Linhardt’s ear; Linhardt barely suppresses both a moan and the urge to throw his head back and headbutt Yuri into oblivion. “You want to come? Tell me.”

“Yuri…” Linhardt’s breath hitches as Yuri’s thrusts speed up, and he feels just about ready to break. “Bastard…”

He’d been expecting it, but he still jolts forward when the spank comes, hard and stinging and _so,_ so good. “How much longer are you going to keep this attitude of yours up?” Yuri says, mock-disappointed. “I thought you said you’d be good for me. Now—give me a proper answer.”

 _Fuck._ This really hadn’t been what Linhardt had in mind when he had gone down to the library today, but everything about this is so sinfully good and he feels like a bowstring pulled taut, teetering on the edge of release—he just needs one movement, one touch, and he knows everything he’s feeling right now is going to intensify by several hundred degrees. So what if he has to bite back his dignity—he’s already this far gone, and Yuri is already this far inside him. “Please,” he chokes out again, his voice rougher than he remembers it being. “Please let me c-come, Yuri, please—”

“Good boy,” Yuri praises, and _that_ has Linhardt’s entire body shuddering again, but he doesn’t get the chance to wonder why before Yuri is reaching down beneath him and wrapping a hand around his aching dick.

Linhardt groans so loud he’s sure the entire Abyss hears him. “Yes, yes, yes—” He rolls his hips, fucking into Yuri’s hand while Yuri fucks him from behind, and the pleasure is near-overwhelming now, his heart beating so fast it feels ready to throw itself right out of his chest. “Yes, please, _ah,_ Yuri—!”

He comes hard—Yuri doesn’t bother blocking it with his hand, and so Linhardt imagines his cum must splatter all over the underside of the desk, dripping down to join the pool of pre-cum on the floor. He has no idea how much he comes, only that it is _a lot,_ and Yuri is merciless, fucking him through his orgasm, using both hands to grip onto Linhardt’s hips and pound his cock inside, over and over until Linhardt can’t move, can’t think, can only ride out the rest of his climax while his mouth hangs open in pleasure, his eyes teary and half-lidded, the desk creaking under their bodies. “Yuri,” he’s babbling, “fuck—fuck, more, more, I want—more, give me more—”

“More?” Yuri pants, and Linhardt can hear the grin in his voice, can hear the flushed cheeks and the glistening sweat on his brow. “You want more still, huh? You’re insatiable.” But he’s moving anyway, harder and faster until his pace grows more erratic, more desperate, and then he’s groaning out Linhardt’s name as he comes as well, spurting inside him and filling him up with cum.

Linhardt’s moan comes out strangled—so good, it feels _so good,_ he wants more, never wants this to end. “Please, please,” he’s gasping, barely even aware of what he’s saying anymore. It doesn’t matter—Yuri pulls out of him but replaces his cock with his fingers again, this time slipping in four at once and pushing his own cum deeper inside Linhardt, and the sheer _fullness_ of it all squeezes another orgasm out of him. He’s never done this before, since he usually just falls dead asleep after the first one, but _fuck_ if it doesn’t feel good—how many more times can he come? The thought of coming dry has him shaking and moaning and pushing back into Yuri’s fingers, his drool beginning to puddle on the table.

“How about that,” Yuri’s murmuring; Linhardt can barely even hear him over his own moans. “I much prefer these sort of sounds from you rather than your incessant blathering. Still interested in reading about tapeworms now?”

“Y—fuck—Yuri…”

“Go on, then.” Yuri tangles a hand in Linhardt’s hair again and yanks harshly, pulling him up to look down at the table. Linhardt gasps—his eyesight is blurred over from tears, but he can see the hazy outline of the book he’d been reading left open on the desk. “Why don’t you read a line aloud for me? I’m just _so_ interested.”

“I-I… I c… can’t…” Linhardt’s eyes flutter shut—Yuri isn’t making things easier, thrusting his fingers in and out as he is. “P-Please—”

“Come on.” Yuri digs his fingers in, pressing against his prostate, and Linhardt nearly chokes on air—too good, too good, too _good._ “The one time I want you to talk and you say you _can’t?_ Read it for me, Linhardt, you’ve been doing it all your life, surely it’s not that hard.”

If Linhardt were in his normal state of mind he’d probably attempt to throttle Yuri, but right now all he can really think about is that Yuri will probably punish him if he _doesn’t_ read this damn book, and the absolute last thing Linhardt wants right now is for him to stop moving those fingers. He swallows back a moan and cracks his eyes open, blinking blearily down at the book before him. “‘A—After—After—’”

He whimpers at the sudden slap to his ass, but he’s starting to crave that sting now, and he almost wants to tell Yuri to hit him harder. “Is that the best you can do?” Yuri asks, rubbing the spot he had just hit. “Don’t disappoint me now, Linhardt.”

Linhardt swallows, groans when Yuri returns his free hand to stroke his cock—he hadn’t realized he’s already half-hard, and the sudden pleasure streaks through his body like electricity. “‘After—After ingestion b-by a sui—suitable freshwater… crustacean—’ _Yuri!_ ” he cries; Yuri had given his cock one last pump before moving up, slipping under Linhardt’s blouse and teasing one of his nipples. “Please, I can’t—I—”

“Just give me the rest of the sentence,” Yuri coaxes, which is easy for him to say— _he_ doesn’t have fingers fucking into his ass and another hand playing with his nipples. “Come on, now. You’re so close. Didn’t you say you’d be good?”

Just the rest of the sentence. Linhardt forces his vision to clear, though the tears refuse to stop, and stammers, “‘The—The c-cora—coracidia develop—develop—into—” His eyes glaze over the unfamiliar word. Why did Linhardt have to read up on a new topic _today,_ of all days? Yuri’s fingers are speeding up, too, practically vibrating against his prostate, and Linhardt opens his mouth again just for a series of broken moans to tumble out. He can’t do this, he _can’t,_ but he tries anyway, stumbles over the word and hopes Yuri doesn’t care about pronunciation right now. “‘Develop into—p-precercoid—larvae.’ I’m d-done, that’s the—sentence, fuck, Yuri, _please—_ ”

“Good boy,” Yuri praises again, and the words go straight to Linhardt’s dick, drawing a trembling groan from his lips. “You did so well. So good for me. Do you want your reward now?”

“R-Reward?”

“Good boys deserve their rewards.” Yuri pulls his fingers out, and Linhardt whines at the emptiness, though not for long—he gasps when he feels that familiar heaviness pressing against his ass, and then Yuri’s cock is back inside him again, fucking him hard and fast before he’s even finished processing the situation. His now-free hand hikes Linhardt’s blouse up, lifting it high enough to expose his chest, then pinches Linhardt’s other nipple—Linhardt almost collapses right there. “Let’s see… how many more times do I need you to come so you remember this lesson?”

Yuri counts up to five. He’s not sure if there are more, though there probably were—he definitely hadn’t expected it to reach more than three, but Linhardt continues to surprise him, it seems.

Linhardt himself is currently passed out on the desk, predictably enough—he’d been barely conscious when he came for the last time, then went limp under Yuri, which Yuri took as his cue to finally give the both of them some rest. Cum dribbles messily down Linhardt’s hole, still wide open and exposed for anyone to see, and Yuri isn’t looking forward to cleaning up the mess on the floor and the underside of the table. Still, that _had_ been one of his most enjoyable sessions so far—the war hasn’t given any of them much time to indulge and unwind, and judging by how… well, _enthusiastic_ Linhardt eventually became, Yuri supposes it must be the same for him.

He wipes the cum off Linhardt’s thighs and ass with a nearby rag, pulls his underwear and pants back up for decency, then maneuvers him onto his back. Yuri isn’t so terrible as to leave him here in the library, but he entertains that thought for a minute—if perhaps some of the Abyss dwellers would pass by and see him slumped on the desk, cum dripping out of his hole, and use him for themselves. It certainly sounds like it would be a sight, Linhardt letting them fuck both his throat and his ass at once like some cheap whore, his pretty face a mess of tears, snot, spit, and cum, moaning around the cock in his mouth while rocking his hips to the one in his ass…

Yuri shakes the thought away; he can feel himself growing hard again, and that’s the last thing he needs right now. For how much he sleeps, Linhardt would probably be into somnophilia, but he’ll have to ask about that first all the same. For now, Yuri should get him back to his room…

Or—Yuri frowns. He’s strong, sure, and he could probably make it up to the surface no problem, but that would invite some unwanted questions he’d rather not answer just now.

Yuri’s bed, on the other hand, is much closer. He adjusts the snoring body on his back and sets off, wondering if Linhardt will be fully recovered by nightfall.

**Author's Note:**

> \- the tapeworms line linhardt read aloud came from [this wikipedia page](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diphyllobothrium)  
> \- give [this tweet](https://twitter.com/almyranpine/status/1306196017608454144) a like while youre here because this fic would not have existed without it
> 
> hope yall enjoyed!! this was my first time filling in a kinkmeme prompt because ive been wanting to write yurilin anyway and this was a perfect opportunity.
> 
> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/featherxs)!


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